Eight Things

Poem about those memories that made a strong impression on me.

Eight Things

In my minds eye I see eight things
I see my little sister, baby goose in hand,
Coming to my class, to show and tell.
I see my best friend, groaning in pain,
Pushing hard to birth the baby she will leave.
I see my mother, frightened face, tear stained,
Holding my father's hand, as he goes to hospital.
I see my uncle, bottle of rye in hand,
Tripping, falling, bashing his nose.
I see my little cousin, mouth open wide, head thrown back,
Laughing and laughing as I swing her high.
I see my brother, graduate hat tipped to the side,
Solemn, shy, accepting his degree
I see my boyfriend's face, set hard, angry voice,
"Why are you leaving?  This is your entire fault!"
And lastly, I see myself, happy, sad, joyous, and shamed
Making it as best I can.

D. B. Sept. 2013